


WTF, Bruce?!

by flashingphase



Series: Including Batman [4]
Category: Justice League (2017)
Genre: Accidents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking, Canon Het Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gift Giving, Holidays, Intervention, Knitting, Protective Barry Allen, Recovery, Self-Reflection, Self-Worth Issues, Showers, Substance Abuse, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-30 07:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13946115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashingphase/pseuds/flashingphase
Summary: The one where they all notice his less deadly self-destructive tendencies, the ones that are just for home, the ones that can't be seen in reckless battle strategy that puts nobody at any risk but himself, because he stops trying so hard to hide it from them.





	1. Broken Shower

The first time, it's an accident, purely because Barry was in too much of a rush to get clean and Bruce didn't say what he meant fast enough.

"Hey, so, we're done, right? I don't need to keep this on any longer? I can go wash off now? Do you mind if I use your shower?"  
"Well, you could, bu- oh, no."  
"What's wrong, you leave a toy out or somethin'?"  
"Shut up, Arthur," he mumbles, already feeling guilty.  
_"What the hell, Bruce!!!"_ He's returned in regular clothes.  
"I was about to tell you it's broken!"  
"Broken? It's burning, stuck on burning, no matter what setting it's on. How long has it been like that? I know you have more than one bathroom, more than one shower. Is Alfred even aware that that one needs fixing?"  
**"No, because he's not the one who uses it."**  
That came out sounder harsher than it was supposed to, must have seemed angrier, but the looks on their faces bring that moment of guilt back twice as strong and he's expressionless again, on the edge of detaching, preparing to be yelled at more or whatever they deem appropriate for not being clear right away and Barry, although a quick healer, having no warning for the ridiculously hot water that won't cool down as long as it's on because the temp dial is messed up.  
Instead, Barry takes a breath, a seat, and asks again in a calmer tone, "How long has it been broken?"  
"Almost two months."  
Shocked, absolutely baffled by this new discovery, he continues, trying to maintain a pace and volume that won't make anyone defensive, "You can afford to have it fixed. Why haven't you? There's no good reason not to."  
"There are bad ones though," Victor adds when no answer comes, "and we won't tolerate those. Which one was it?"  
"The one closer to his bedroom. What are you thinking?"  
"I'm thinking I have a look at it myself, see what can be done, maybe he won't have to bring in a stranger. You mind?"  
Finally, Bruce answers, "Have at it," the hard poke at one shoulder making it fall out easier.

"Tell me the truth... Is there more than one bad reason?" She's still in full gear, not going to use anything on him, but having a hand resting on what she could. That gets the reaction it's intended to, since he doesn't know she isn't actually a threat. "And, if so, what are they?"  
"Sure. But I don't spend too much time when I'm using it, so it shouldn't be such a big deal to you."  
"You're hurting yourself without need. Whatever reasons for that you may have I'm sure aren't worth it. If anything, you should be seeking comfort for all you've had to live with."  
"Is he mad at me or not?" It's asked like they're talking business, like this isn't highly personal. It's a desire for a simple yes-or-no, eyes that betray voice and are just right for a situation that is nothing but outside those walls and in-between and all over the place, eyes that beg for an out, a way to leave the issue and never return to it but not in the same way they want to. It's asked so fast it's so obvious if he talked at a normal speed, the talk would match the eyes.  
"Excuse me!? I- I- How dare you ask that? You still think this is about me? It's not! Listen, I don't care that I was a little uncomfortable for a fraction of a second before I figured out what was wrong and decided to use the sink water instead. I'm over that. What I care about now is that you've been taking normal person time showers in that for almost two months. And what exactly do you mean by almost?"  
"Two or three days from."  
"That's... That's unacceptable. That just makes me sad to think about."  
"So think about something else."  
"I can't. Not until this is fixed."  
"Me or the shower?"  
"The shower. Also, could you please, _please_ never imply to me that you're broken again? That hurts."  
Barry stands, tells Diana he's going upstairs to talk to Victor, and is gone before anyone can respond.  
It's fixed within the next five hours.

The next time he showers is actually the shortest since before it was broken. Nearly two months was enough time to make it feel weird not to get out looking so many shades redder, for it not to necessarily hurt, for there to be no prickliness to it; for it to be normal-hot and not broken-hot, and not even hot the whole time. It doesn't make it easy to zone out and go straight to sleep afterward, doesn't make the fog settle in in more ways than physical, and barely even does it that much. There isn't enough steam to blur thoughts. It's so unsettling he forgets to use conditioner.


	2. Choice in Fabrics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a large and somewhat fancy social gathering, due to insistence from Alfred, he goes out and buys something new to wear. Diana accompanies him to both the event and the shopping trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pulled this out of my ass. Good night.

The second time, it starts out with denial that there is anything wrong. 

Bruce wasn't planning on arguing with anyone today. Not until his fashion choices were being judged.  
"What exactly do you think is wrong with this one? Be specific. Don't just make weird faces at me now, tell me what the issue is."  
"It doesn't look comfortable."  
"It's a formal event, not a casual one."  
"You read me wrong. I mean I've seen plenty of suits that don't look that stiff. Let me have a closer look at it."  
He tosses the article of clothing over to her, frowning.  
"See, even the inside doesn't feel very nice. I know you can afford better, so why do you keep buying things like this?"  
"It's what I'm used to. I prefer it."  
"Hm. Fine. We _are_ getting into the why of that later though. Don't think this conversation is over."  
"Fine. But don't bring it back up tonight."  
He is who he is and he'll buy what he wants.

"You got it a size smaller than you should have."  
"I know I didn't get bigger and this is the size I always get."  
"Then you've been getting the wrong size."  
"Are you saying I don't look good?"  
"No, I'm just saying you don't look comfortable."  
"Comfort isn't always necessary."  
"It's still something to aim for. Don't you think you deserve it?"  
No answer.  
"Oh. I see."  
Pretending he didn't hear the question, he replies, "See what? I wasn't listening, I was focusing on putting this tie on."  
She doesn't buy it, so on their way out, as soon as he's out of hearing range, she asks Alfred for a second opinion, giving a brief recap of their time spent together that day and her thoughts on it. "Do you think he does this on purpose to punish himself for some reason?"  
"I wouldn't doubt it, but I wouldn't push it. But that's me. You can go right ahead."

At some point in the endless sea of dancing and music and voices and drinks, which she thinks he's overdoing, she finds an opportunity to slip away, says she's going to find a restroom while he's discussing business with a man she doesn't recognize. She spends the next 10-15 minutes calling and texting people, not giving any specifics but heavily suggesting that for their silly little secular Valentine's party where they've already agree to get each other gifts at least one of them - aside from her, because she's getting him what he bought earlier in the day in the right size - should give Bruce a very soft sweater.  
It's rare to see him wearing something that isn't too tight or doesn't have rough fabric or stiff lining or too-thick stitching that likely rubs and irritates. She wants to see how he reacts to being gifted comfy shirts.

When all but one of them see each other again, the plan is to have dinner, see some cheesy rom-com, and then go to Barry's place to unbox gifts because only one of them has a real date and the others really have nothing better to do. That one is not there and said he didn't want a present. Because he has Lois.  
Although Clark isn't there, he did make sure to drop something off before going out. It isn't even from him. It's from Martha Kent and there's a handwritten note on the outside: _This is not store-bought. We'll both be sad if you don't like it._  
He opens it slowly, worried by the note, questioning if he still wants to know what's in it. Surely enough, it's a knitted sweater. It's a black and dark grey one with a simple striped design and sleeves that are already folded up into nice cuffs. He can't recall having a shirt this soft before.  
"Damn, that sure beats mine."  
"What?"  
The last person he would have ever suspected of getting him anything like that is Arthur. This one is obviously store-bought. The tag is annoyingly big and anyone else would snip it off right away to avoid being scratched by it with every movement. It's entirely blue, but has different shades, and it looks like waves, but with no defined lines, nothing hard about it. It's soft. Not as soft as the other one, but still softer than any shirts he already owned before tonight.  
When he opens the one from Diana, he gets even more flustered. "I already have this."  
"Check the tag."  
He does. "Are you serious?"  
"Try it on."  
"I have no privacy here."  
"We've seen you shirtless before."  
"I'd really rather not today."  
"We can turn around while you're changing."  
Begrudgingly, he agrees to it. "Okay. This _is_ better. No need to say you told me so, I hear it loud and clear."  
It doesn't look big on him. It looks just right. She smiles and points to the other two shirts. "You're not done."  
For a moment, he looks downright miserable. Then he stops holding back, flings it off and goes for the blue sweater next.  
He'd gotten Arthur a waterproof watch, Diana a new dress, Barry two new pairs of shoes, and Victor some old gadgets he's never going to use again that may be fun to take apart and put back together or something. Whatever Victor thought when he saw them, he was clearly pleased by it. They started opening what they got from him while he was trying on the sweaters. The blue one is a bit snug in the shoulders, but he doesn't say anything out it or its tag.  
They're all looking at him when he doesn't move or say anything for too long after putting on the one from the Kents.  
"Bruce, is something wrong?"  
"No, it's fine. It's better than fine."  
"Doesn't sound fine."  
"Arthur, no offense, but I can't remember a time I wore anything softer than this. It's new to me."  
"None taken, it sure _looks_ softer than mine. Homemade too. Real special. You better show some appreciation when you see that woman again, she's got a talent."  
"I will."

After they've gone through all the other little things they got for each other, after they've gone their separate ways once more, after Bruce has had a good amount of time to think about what lead to the night's nicest surprises, he takes too many pillows from a guest room into his own and falls asleep without taking the sweater off.


	3. Third Time's The Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One night of embracing softness was just one night of it. All went back to usual after that. Until they talk about it, anyway.

"There has to be a better reason than boredom for you to be out here with me tonight."  
"I never said it was boredom."  
"The sweaters were your idea, weren't they?"  
"Yes, but that doesn't mean they didn't put any thought into it."  
"Everyone expected something from everyone. I get it."  
"Arthur really didn't know what to get you. I had the idea, but he still had an idea of what _not_ to get, what might look better on you. None of us can picture you in bright colors and that one is mostly a darker blue. He thought you would like it. He was happy that you liked it."  
"Did you give him any advice?"  
"All I told him was what size to look for."

The third time is the first time in a long time that Bruce's pool has gotten any use. It's been a time-consuming and mind-numbing ordeal and everyone looks just a little bit irritable. The idea to clean up the pool and fill it comes up when someone remembers that there is one and asks when it was last used.  
As expected, Arthur is the first to jump in when it's filled. An hour passes before anyone notices Bruce isn't outside with them anymore.  
"He probably just went to bed."  
"I still think we should check and let him know when we're leaving."  
"You do it then. I'm content to stay here as long as I'm allowed to."  
"No, I think you should."  
"Really?"  
"Yes, really. It's clear that you're having the most fun. You should thank him."  
"And what if he's sleeping?"  
_"Then_ I'll accept leaving without saying goodbye."  
He's not sleeping. Although the bedroom door is closed, locked even, Arthur knows he's not asleep because he hears something rattling around in there, so he knocks.  
"Hey man, we're leaving, Di just said to tell you so, okay? Bye."  
There's a thud against the door.  
"Uh, are you okay in there?"  
The knob moves in short, sharp shakes before properly unlocking and letting the door open.  
"Yeah. Sure."  
He doesn't look okay, shoving himself through in a way that squeezed him a little, not letting the door open too much, not wanting to show the mess he's made.  
"Is that all?"  
"What are you hiding?"  
"Is that all?"  
"I didn't come in here to argue with you, but if you don't tell me why you're acting so weird, no, that's not all. Did I interrupt something really personal? Were you having some _you time?"_ It sounds mocking, it sounds like a bad joke, but the real concern is there.  
"No."  
"Then what is it?"  
"Personal in a different sense."  
"What sense? Smell? Because you smell bad. You should take a shower. Oh, by the way, is it still working how it's supposed to?"  
"In a sense I don't care to share with you, and yes, it's working just fine, thanks to Victor."  
"Did you thank him?"  
"Of course I did."  
With the increasing closeness and stress and grip on the handle tightening, it's accidentally turned and Bruce falls backward into the room. He gets up fast, but not fast enough to stop the other man from getting a good look around.  
"Woah."  
He doesn't enter the room, but leans on the doorframe and waits for some sort of explanation, waits for Bruce to try to come up with an excuse other than substance abuse, a reason that sounds at least half-assed. Instead, he just sees a dysfunctional man slowly move to sit at the end of the bed, not looking back up at him, given up on excuses, failed at hiding, and not having the energy for either anymore.  
"If you're going to comment, get it over with so I can go to sleep."  
"How long has this been going on?" He doesn't know what to look at, what to motion to, what to question first, the pills or the drinks that shouldn't be stored in a bedroom but a cabinet, one in the bathroom, one in the kitchen or wherever else there may be that is more appropriate than here, but alas, there are a few different bottles. Two stick out from under the bed and one is on it, a small spill on the blanket not too far from it. Smaller containers aren't liquid and he spots one pill that's landed on the floor.  
"I lost track."  
Another long and uncomfortable silence ends in repetition, "Is that all?"  
"I could put those away for you."  
"I can do it myself."  
"Okay, let me rephrase: Let me help or I'll get someone else to try. I enjoy a nice drink sometimes too, but this doesn't look like it's for fun. It would've been fun, I bet, if you'd brought this out to the pool and shared with us, maybe got in it yourself, but you look terrible and you're mixing it with pills. Are those even prescription or did you find some rich person loophole to get whatever you want for a spacey time?"  
Grumbling and rubbing at his eyes, Bruce admits that he obtained them the second way. "What're you gonna do about it?"  
"Unless you want to fight me, I'm taking all this shit and ditching it somewhere so dirty no one will want to dig it out."  
"I don't want to fight."  
"Good. That's great, man. Good night."  
"Yeah, yeah, get outta here before I change my mind."


	4. No Surprises Allowed Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First morning text: "We're throwing you a party. Don't even think about arguing against it and don't be late." It's from Victor. The next one is details: location and time.  
> Later, someone says that they agreed to let him in on it and not make it a surprise party so that there wouldn't be any unfortunate misunderstandings. They did have other things to do that day. They had other reasons to gather and didn't want him thinking they were hiding anything bad when they went off afterward to talk without him.
> 
> This is the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For storyline convenience and because it's the most common date I've seen in my searches, I'm going with the 19th of the same month. https://comicvine.gamespot.com/batman/4005-1699/forums/does-anyone-actually-know-when-bruce-waynes-birthd-579190/ but I won't say an age in here because I really don't know what he would be in the JL movie. I saw some grey hairs, so it could be interpreted here that the reason no one mentions which birthday it is is to avoid making him feel like too much of an old fart. lastly... i did not know until now that "snuck" isn't a real word.

Few things about this situation are surprising. None of the drinks available are alcoholic, there is both cake and pie, half of what he gets is more really nice shirts, the music is similar to what he usually listens to when driving, and guests other than League members are few and predictable.  
What isn't is who can dance how well to what and how many questions he's asked about himself and what kind of questions they have. It's random things, silly things, things he never expected to come up like how much exactly he knows how to cook and if he has a favorite board game and if he's more or a cat or dog person. ("And no, _bat person_ isn't an acceptable answer.")  
The most surprising thing is how much fun he actually ends up having. That's so surprising it's almost scary.

"Hey man, just so you know, we're not spending any more money on you for at least the next two months."  
"I didn't ask for this. I wouldn't ask for this."  
"I know."  
What is scary is that he kept expecting the mood to change and it didn't so many times and then when it finally did, he wasn't waiting for it anymore and wasn't ready.  
"How's the last five days treated you? Be honest. You looked like a wreck last time I saw ya."  
"I thought it was a pointless move to make, doing what you did when I can just get more of whatever I want whenever I want if I want it enough. Then I didn't have the motivation to because it wasn't conveniently already available to me. I didn't have the energy and the more I thought about it, the less I wanted it. I underestimated you and I underestimated the importance of what a friend could do only on one night. I won't say this is the end, but for now, it's enough, and I'd really like to go back to a lighter subject if you don't mind."  
"Sure. Which of those sweaters is your favorite?"  
"Not yours. Sorry." The humor is back, but only temporarily.

As it's nearing the time he was told it should end at that would be most convenient for everyone, he's sneaked away outside for some quiet to get rid of an oncoming headache faster. There he finds Clark who, when asked, says he wanted to look at the stars.  
"They're not going anywhere and there's nothing particularly different about the view every night, but it's still comforting to me somehow. Have you ever tried to count them?"  
"Once."  
"I know it can seem like a meaningless task, but it's like counting anything else if you get in the habit of counting to calm down. It doesn't matter how far I get or that I'll never count all of them, it matters that it helps me get to sleep sometimes."  
"Maybe I should give it try."  
"Don't see why not!" He gives Bruce that smile that everyone loves and he doesn't care much about how quiet he wanted it to be moments before because this works too. He thinks it had to have been stress-induced, because there's no way to be stressed out here with the starts and that smile and slowly but surely, the headache is gone. It doesn't get worse like usual before getting better, it just fades and is forgotten and it feels like it's been longer than it has before the others are leaving. The silence that was desired became undesirable. They share a look, one that communicates that both of them have things they want to say that they haven't yet, but Bruce still asks why he didn't get up off the doorstep and leave with them after none of them are in sight or hearing distance anymore.  
"I'll go soon enough. I want you to know something. When we started doing this, that first time at the restaurant, I didn't say anything to you and I wished I had when you left. I think it'd be nice if **you** visited **me** sometime, let me show you how to make some things. You got us back the house and I didn't really do anything to thank you other than, well, thanking you."  
"It's not necessary."  
"I know. But I'm sure it'd be a good time. I heard you talking about cooking earlier, I know I could help, no problem. Give it a chance, okay? You should get to be _in_ the house at least once."  
Jokingly, he asks if he did something wrong and if this is an attempt at killing him with kindness. They both laugh.  
"You said you weren't worth arguing for. I get it may have not been meant so seriously, but you should know we're all willing to argue with you if we think it's for your own good."  
"Oh, I got that loud and clear."  
"Happy birthday, Bruce."  
"Thank you and good night, Clark."


	5. Sunny, Lazy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Around the beginning of March, when there are no holidays and not so much else to do that it's inconvenient, the time has been found and a visit of no strict time later in the day has been decided upon for when they should part again. Bruce keeps waiting for Clark to get tired of him or run out of things to do with and show him and someone else has to suggest that it's getting late so he should go home and sleep during a silence that before then was so comfortable they almost fell asleep where they were sitting on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw a really cute picture on Tumblr where they were both petting a dog and I briefly mentioned this picture to a friend I was talking to on the phone a couple days ago and near the end of this call, she says, "Aw, bummer..." for no apparent reason so I'm like "What's wrong?" and she tells me, "I was looking for something on Netflix. It's not there." I ask no further questions and the conversations turns back to politics. Then, at around 4:20 yesterday morning, she calls me again and before I can say anything, she shouts at me, "Wakey wakey, bitch; Smallville is on Hulu!" and mid-question, whilst I am asking what that is and why she wants me to watch it because she knows I have a housemate who lets us use his Hulu account so clearly this means she wants me to watch it but I've never even heard of it, she hangs up on me without telling me what it's about. So I turn on my garbage tablet because same housemate had his laptop and I wasn't borrowing it at that time and it takes me more than 10 minutes just to turn it on and get a browser opened and then another few after typing in the title to find out that it has anything at all to do with Superman, because the results that came up were annoyingly vague so it took a little digging and also the pages all loaded slowly. once I know this, I run upstairs to watch it on the TV, it's almost 5:10, I send her a quick "Thank you." text and Thank GOD no one else was in the livingroom for the next two hours. Lastly... how could anyone not love that smile. how. it is good no matter what actor, at least from who i've seen play this character so far. it is perfect. sometimes when i am sad i purposely search "superman's smile" and it has helped every time I have done it. 10/10 would recommend.

It's a bright day out. Not exactly hot, there's still snow in some parts, but a lot of it has melted and there are puddles everywhere and it is simply bright. It can't be called cold anymore, but it's not warm. It just is, and it's bright. When he arrives and steps out, the light makes him squint for a moment and his first step out of the vehicle is right into mud. _Oops._ Then, a very shaggy and excited golden retriever is running toward him. By the time he sees it and decides to get back in, the dog is already close enough and jumps in first.  
"Hey, get out! _Get out!"_  
In the distance, he hears a faint "oh no" and someone who whistles gets the dog out. There are now multiple dog paw shaped mud marks on the seats.  
While he's wiping off the prints with a large sponge, Clark is apologizing for not keeping the situation under better control.  
"Really sorry about the dog."  
"We're off to a great start today, aren't we?" It's meant to be sarcastic, but it sounds just a little mean and he has to hope his friend doesn't think so too and maybe finds it humorous instead. They're not off to a great start. He knows they already feel bad, so why rub it in?  
He still gets invited in for lunch.

At what point is it appropriate to leave? An hour in? Two? They didn't agree to a time, but the longer he stays and listens and follows and thinks of questions he feels are stupid but asks anyway because he's being smiled at like that, the more tense he gets.  
Five later, he's two improperly cracked eggs down, two eggs wasted, picking pieces of cracked egg shell out of a bowl of water and going for a third one. Three is the lucky number. He's properly cracked an egg and it shouldn't be so satisfying, it's so simple, too simple, but it is.  
There is dessert. It's also very simple, it's nothing fancy, and it's not anything he hasn't seen before, but it's still great. It feels like he's having experiences he should have had in some way and it's sad and happy at the same time and there is a dog watching them with begging eyes but no one is giving in because there's chocolate syrup involved.

They have a telescope. It's no surprise. Clark was clearly toning down his interest in the stars when talking about it the last time they'd seen each other, looking like he wanted to say a lot more than he did just to say it, just to talk about it. It's a good hobby not too many people have seemed to care to hear about. Now, though, is another opportunity.  
After the time when he decides he's pointed out and named too many things in the sky, they go back to a better-lit room and, now forgiven because it's too adorable to stay mad at, they sit on the floor and pet the dog. Bruce hasn't sat on a floor in a long time. He's landed on an outdoor ground, crouched on fences, and rested on steps, but not sat on a floor in a very long time. It's even a carpeted one and, looking at it beforehand, he expected it to be less soft. He expected the dog to be softer. Its fur is slightly tangled and it definitely needs a bath because it feels like it's been rolling around in large amounts of dust. Still, so friendly, and an enthusiastic licker.  
"This dog is kind of like you."  
"I've been told that before."

At some point, they're watching TV, and they keep good commentary and lighthearted debate going for a while, and then it drifts out and time slips and they both nearly go to sleep until someone else is exaggerating a forced cough to get their attention. He can only hope Clark had been close enough to sleep to not notice the head on his shoulder before they jumped up.  
"It's getting late, boys, shouldn't someone be heading home now?"  
"Oh. Right. Well, it was a good time, like I said it'd be, wasn't it?"  
"Sure was. She's right though. I should go. Bye, Clark."  
"See ya."

Just before he fully closes the door to leave, he overhears,  
_"Do you think I was being annoying?"_  
_"I think you were both wondering that, it was so obvious, and it's sad. Go to bed."_  
_Something small, cracked like an egg, not a laugh but close. "Okay."_


	6. Without the Blanket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I don't care that you've done it before, I don't care that you know you can handle it, it doesn't matter! It just doesn't matter! I want you to let me drive. The strain, no matter how you've handled it before, is not necessary. Switch seats with me. Now."_
> 
> Batman's hands get hurt in a defense move gone wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll make the timing known next time it matters.

"I don't care that you've done it before, I don't care that you know you can handle it, it doesn't matter! It just doesn't matter! I want you to let me drive. The strain, no matter how you've handled it before, is not necessary. Switch seats with me. Now."  
"You're real bossy for someone of your size," he argues against Barry.  
"Now is not the time. You know he's right. Come sit back here, take your gloves off, let me have a look."  
"Y'know, I don't even have to be in your seat to drive it." It sounds casual, but it's a threat.  
At the thought of more holes being added into the vehicle by Victor, he gets up and sits next to Diana.  
He's not expecting the contact to feel nice, but she's so gentle. He supposes the same logic applies here: It just isn't necessary to handle him roughly at the time being, like it just isn't necessary to insist on continuing to go about as usual with an injury when someone else is giving him the chance to take it easy. They have saved and protected people. People are safe now. So are they. They can be soft because they don't need to be anything else in this hour, in the rest of this night.  
"Do you have a kit somewhere in here?"  
It doesn't take long to clean with a wipe and wrap, and after that, he expects nothing. He expects no more, and hadn't even expected that from her, and yet, there she is, still holding his hands after the supplies have been put away. He thinks this has to be some sort of test, but doesn't want to question it, because then it might end earlier than it will if he doesn't. So instead, he wonders how long it will last.

It lasts until he's home again, and then, she gives him a small squeeze to one shoulder. The others get out fast, clearly having heard from her beforehand, clearly knowing what she's about to do before he does. It's frustrating, but it's also nice, because it means that they care about him enough to talk about him when he's not around, that he exists in their minds when they can't see him. That maybe sometimes he's mentioned to other people, unnamed, as a friend who said or did a thing, and that's something he doesn't think he had before the League.  
"Okay, what's this about?"  
"Did you feel I was testing you?"  
"Yes. Now what was I being tested on?"  
"You did much better this time than when we danced, even better than with a blanket between us. You didn't appear uneasy at all to such closeness. I thought you would pull away from me after I finished with the wrapping; I was pleasantly surprised you didn't."  
"So was I. Can we get out now?"  
"Yes."

Inside, new information gathered is gone over, typed in, saved, and then everything is powered down for the night.  
He keeps a professional tone while it's necessary, and when it's not, he tries to become comfortable letting it go, because clearly, that's what the rest of them want. He's not very good at being casual with people, with friends who know him on a closer level, but he's trying to at least make it look like he is. The mental freak-out going on during that ride wasn't expressed in the slightest. That doesn't mean it wasn't still happening and it certainly doesn't mean it didn't come back full force when she put one arm around his shoulders just before leaving and saying _good night._  
The worst part was that Barry went the next step up and went in for a full, proper hug. In a different, indescribable sense, it was the best part.  
Barry, small thing he is, found comfort in this mess of a man, and had decided he deserved something for it.  
It took some gathering of thoughts, some evening out of breathing, but it turned out okay.

It turned out okay without a barrier. He'd have to remind himself on future occasions that it would be okay, but he'd get to be comfortable with it. How odd it is, to be so disturbed by things you desire most, even when they are as simple as this, is something he'll think about on multiple occasions after this.

"I'd say I'll settle for a handshake, but..." Clark stops and looks down at Bruce's hands, then back up at his face before grinning, patting him on one shoulder, telling him, "Relax. Take good care of yourself," and then he's alone again, but he doesn't feel like it, and not in the creepy way. In the way that helps him sleep better than any drink has, the way that makes him decide he deserves to be happy, at least for that night. The way that makes him feel that he matters in a positive way as a person outside of Batman.


End file.
